(no subject)

immersing myself in buddhist studies again. need detachment, coolness, absence of personal suffering. need to regain practice of the dharma. atman/will/intent running thin. unbearable temporary strains are chains that need broken. quest for peace resumes. will also begin writing; i am feeling a major purging of the soul coming on. may attempt to encapsulate feelings of devastation, desolation in music tonight as way of “getting worm out”. feeling calmer just reading buddhist scriptures. had minute revelation when i realised i recognized a sanskrit term i had never seen before. did not know the meaning at first but it came as does one who was familiar in the past. from this, realised that one may still attain buddhahood even after repeated abject failures. i have seen the Light before, will see It again with luck. on the subject of writing, words come almost too fast now for me to write them down; as if Kerouac’s instructions are becoming more real; like a great gate of innermost magicthought is seepingly opening allowing rush of wordnoise and perhaps even genetic memory… even as codes are broken, yet more awful comforting guarding walls are being erected but softly, noiselessly, as the protection spell of LBRP almost. no, no walls, justonly sacred energy; self-defense film or membrane. a coat, a hanger, a piece of plaster; puzzlepiece pour pouring purgements. no shame, nor anger, nor guilt. only upward-looking astonishing eagerness toward holy nothingness and sacred emptiness. hand me my vestments, i’m headed for the vestibule with my vim.